


Oh Honey, It Is Paradise

by dornfelder



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Germany, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), hijinks & shenanigans in Berlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornfelder/pseuds/dornfelder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With too much time on their hands, Steve, Sam, and Bucky spend the night in Berlin. Sam's not quite sure he likes the scenery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Honey, It Is Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thanks to Vaysh for concrit and betareading. Her patience knows no bounds. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Steve gets back into the car with a stupid grin on his face. As Sharon's sleek BMW pulls away, he lowers his head and rubs the back of his neck. Sam is torn between the urge to congratulate him and offer condolences for shitty timing. 

"She's pretty," Barnes observes from the backseat. 

"She is," Steve says, still with a smile. 

"You've been seeing her? Going steady?" 

"Uh – no, actually." 

"They're old friends," Sam offers when Barnes remains silent. "Sort of. I don't think you've seen her since D.C., have you?" he adds, directed at Steve. 

Steve's smile slowly fades. "No. But it was good to see her again."

"Did _you_ know she was Peggy Carter's niece? Before the church, I mean."

"No," Steve says. He puts the keys in the ignition. 

In a quiet voice, Barnes says, "Agent Carter's niece?"

"Yes," Steve says and then, in a way that sounds weirdly defensive, "So?"

When Barnes doesn't say anything, Sam clears his throat. "Right. What do we do now?"

"We go to Leipsic," Steve says. 

" _Leipzig_ ," Barnes corrects him. 

"That's what I said."

"No, it's not. You were mangling it."

"Sorry, Buck, but when did you become the world's leading expert on foreign languages?" 

Sam winces. That … well, that wasn't exactly the most sensitive thing to say. 

Steve immediately turns his head in apology. "God, Buck, I'm –"

"Some time in the fifties," Barnes says. "Probably." 

"– sorry," Steve says. Silence descends, then Steve starts the engine and puts the car into gear. 

"Okay, so how do we get to … Leipzig?" Sam hopes he doesn't butcher the word too badly, but if he does, Barnes thankfully has mercy on him and keeps silent. "How long does it take?"

"Two to three hours, I guess," Steve says. 

"In this car?" Barnes says. "Make it four."

"What do we do until then?" Sam asks. "Barton and Lang won't be here before noon. And I don't know about you two, but I could do with something to eat. A few hours of sleep. That basement wasn't what I would call cozy. " 

Sam would add a shower to the list, except he doesn't want to sound like a diva. But it's a fact, they all stink. With three grown-up guys who have sweated through yesterdays' clothing at least twice – two of which have also taken a dive into a river, then let their clothes dry on their skin – the tiny car is filled with an intense, musty smell. Kudos to Sharon; she didn't even shy back when Steve got close and personal.

"We can't risk a hotel, " Steve says. "And we probably shouldn't take the freeway either."

" _Autobahn_ ," Barnes says. 

Sam turns his head and swears he catches Barnes grinning. He already kind of likes the guy; he seems to have a knack for needling Steve. Sam can get behind that. 

"So we use country roads, which still leaves us with more than twelve hours to fill before the others get here," he says. "We should find a place to stay for the night."

"Yeah, okay," Steve says. "Any ideas?"

"Don't ask me. I know nothing about Germany."

"I think I have an idea," Barnes says. "Turn left."

Steve does. "Care to clue us in?"

"It's a place. Construction site, kind of. I squatted there for a few days, a couple of months ago." 

At the next intersection, Steve has to slow down for a small group of protesters who cross the street right in front of them, escorted by bored-looking police officers. They carry German flags and banners with a black bear inside a red circle. 

"Who are _those_ guys?" Sam asks. 

"No idea," Steve says. They watch in silence as the protesters pass, maybe fifty or sixty people, most of them men. All of them white.

"They don't look very friendly." Sam exchanges a glance with Steve. 

"No," Steve says. Then he suddenly tenses. Sam follows his gaze to a couple of stragglers. They carry a huge white banner with Captain America's shield on it, encircled with several words in black sharpie. Some of them are in capital letters. There's a _UNO_ and a _CAP_ in it somewhere. And a _corrupt_? Sam has a moderately bad feeling about this. "What does it say?"

Steve's hands tighten around the steering wheel. "I have no idea." 

" _Die UNO ist korrupt – CAP weiß Bescheid_ ," Barnes quotes. "It means, 'the United Nations are corrupt – Cap knows it'."

Steve tenses further; his knuckles turn white. Another banner has pictures of women with different kinds of Muslim headgear, crossed out with a red X. 

"I really don't like the look of those guys," Sam says. Too many buzz cuts, and something about the black shirts with their white and red emblems makes his skin crawl.

"Neither do I," Steve says. He lifts his head. "Hey, Buck, do you remember Liegnitz?"

A brief pause. Then Barnes says softly, "You betcha."

"Think you can pull it off?"

"What are you two talking about?" 

"Liegnitz, '43. We were on a classified mission –"

"They were _all_ classified, Steve."

"Yeah, but this one was different; we had to disguise as locals –"

"Nazis?" Sam asks.

"Workers. They had a large copper mine –"

"Smelter, actually."

"– and we'd gotten intel that they were working on a special copper alloy for Hydra. The generals wanted to get their hands on it first, so we went and joined their morning shift – Bucky, Dum Dum, Falsworth, and me. Then we staged a distraction -"

"No offense, man, but does this story have a point?" Sam asks. The protesters have moved along, out of sight. A lone police car trails behind.

Bucky snorts. Steve lifts his eyes and casts a look at the rearview mirror. Whatever he's looking for, he seems to find it, because he starts to smile.

~~~~~

" _Bärgida_!" Barnes calls out. " _Pegida für Berlin! Wir sind das Volk!_ " As some of the stragglers turn around, he breaks into a jog. " _Hey, Johannes! Johannes! Warte mal!_ " 

He runs past Steve, who has been walking in front of him at a slower pace. As the protesters step aside to let him through, he abruptly stops, turns around, and barrels into one of the guys carrying the Captain America banner. At the same time, Steve catches up to the protesters from behind and tackles the nearest guy just as he takes a step back to get away from Barnes. 

Mayhem ensues. 

From his position behind the police car, Sam doesn't see exactly what happens, but at the end of it, the Cap banner is down and so are five of the protesters. As the police officers stop their car, get out and start to run toward the scene of the crime, Barnes is nowhere to be seen and Steve is just getting up from the ground. He sways on his feet, appearing, for all intents and purposes, like someone who just got caught in the middle of a brawl by accident. 

Sam slowly walks up to the crowd that gathers around the protesters. All of them have miraculously acquired bruises and black eyes. One guy cradles his wrist. The banner is torn, the wooden staff broken in half. 

Angry words are thrown around. Some of the protesters complain to the police. One policeman radios another patrol. A scuffle breaks out between two of the protesters and a bystander; the other policeman intervenes. Steve is still standing amidst the crowd. There are too many eyes on him to get away unnoticed, and at some point, someone will recognize him.

Sam steps up to one guy with a buzz cut who sits on the ground holding his head. He pats him on the back and tells him, in the most pronounced vernacular he can manage, "Whoa, dude, you're not looking so good. Come one, take a deep breath, man, yeah, that's right." Eyes focus on him, irritated, and curious. He pretends to be oblivious. "You okay, man?" From the corner of his eyes he sees Steve slink away.

" _Alter, lass mich los,_ " the guy mutters, and shakes Sam's hand off. " _Verpiss dich, Mann!_ " It's followed by something that might be a slur; the second half sounds familiar even in German. 

Sam lifts his hand and takes a step back. It earns him a couple of sympathetic glances from random bystanders. Some nasty remarks are thrown at the guy on the ground and Sam gets the impression that the protesters aren't too popular around here. After a few moments, the general attention shifts toward the second police car pulling up behind them. As soon as Sam is reasonably sure that no one looks at him anymore, he shrugs once for good measure and walks away. 

Steve and Barnes are already back in the car. 

"Nice work," Sam tells them. "How many have you got?" 

Barnes holds up three wallets, Steve two.

"I'm impressed," Sam says, grinning at Barnes. "Usually, Steve's the overachiever around here."

After a second, Barnes smiles back at him. It's not a very big smile, but a surprising one, and to his dismay, Sam feels a little charmed. It's like getting a glimpse of the guy Barnes must have been, before the war and Hydra fucked him over. _A smile that could light up the room_ , Steve had said to him, back in D.C., the one time Sam could get him to talk about Barnes. Sam is starting to see what he meant. 

Steve starts the car again. Sam and Barnes count the money. Taking out the cash leaves them with 336 euros. They take a brief stop to dispose of the wallets at a random postbox by the side of the road. Now that they have German money, their next destination is a shopping mall. It's gotten dark in the meantime, but in spite of the late hour, there's still a lot of traffic. Steve parks the car in a remote slot of the large parking area, far away from the brightness of the building's outdoor lighting. 

"Who gets the short straw?" Sam asks. The idea of having to deal with the crowd of harried employees and stressed-out customers is uniquely unappealing at the moment. 

"I'll go," Barnes says, and Steve doesn't object. 

He opens the door and hauls himself out of the driver's seat. He folds it forward to make room for Barnes to scramble out. While Barnes heads toward the building, Steve leans against the door with his hands in his pockets. 

"Better get in in the car," Sam suggests. "They see you standing there, they might recognize you."

"They won't," Steve says. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and crosses them before his chest.

 _Defensive much, Captain?_ Sam wouldn't go so far to call Steve's behavior erratic, but it's certainly _different._ The minute Barnes is out of his sight, he gets anxious, as if he's afraid that Barnes might pull the stealthy spy card and disappear again. And yet, there's an implicit trust between them. It doesn't seem to have diminished at all in the years they spent apart.

With a sigh, Sam leans back into his seat. They don't have to wait long. After a couple of minutes, Barnes reappears with two plastic bags and a sixpack of water bottles.

Now they only have to find a place to bunk down for the night. They follow Barnes' directions, heading south. In the dark, Berlin has turned into a sea of lights that could be any big city, anywhere.

~~~~~

"What _is_ this?" 

"An airport," Barnes says.

"It doesn't look like an airport. Where are the _people_?"

"It's not finished." 

"Uh-huh," Sam says. They are standing on a huge, empty square, surrounded by huge buildings with unclear purposes, none of which seem to be in use. In the south west, columns support what looks like a huge canopy. Behind it, separated from the square by a wide road, a huge building with glass facades looms ominously in the dark.

Barnes leads them toward a futuristic-looking building on the left. He ignores the main entrance of what appears to be the _Steigenberger Airport Hotel_ and walks around to an emergency exit at the back. 

"Are you kidding me?" Sam whispers. "We can't just break in. They'll have security, an alarm system –"

Barnes spares him a pitying look. 

Sam takes a deep breath. "All right." 

Breaking in turns out to be surprisingly easy: the hotel apparently doesn't employ any night security, and the alarm system may be the best that is commercially available, but it's no match for a standard Stark Tech intermitter.

They sneak inside, armed with flashlights. Through an emergency stairwell, they reach the long-stretched lobby with its lounges and reception areas.

"I don't believe this," Sam whispers, looking around. The hotel is fully furnished and decorated, everything in place. It's also dark and very empty. Their footsteps echo in the vast foyer. 

"Right," Steve says. "Let's find a place to sleep."

Sam shakes his head, still in disbelief. The whole setting is surreal. "You know what? If we're going to squat, we'll do it in style. Let's take a suite." 

Steve opens his mouth with a frown. Sam shakes his head again. "Nuh-uh. Come one, it's not like it's going to matter. We're not snatching it away from under someone's nose. You see any businessmen lined up here with their Amex?"

Steve sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and nods. Barnes moves behind the counter, rummages through a drawer, and comes up with a room key that he tosses at Steve. "Fourth floor."

It turns out that knowing you're alone and acting like it aren't the same. They sneak up to the top floor, quiet like burglars. Which, admittedly, they are. They reach the suite's main door and Steve lets the flashlight pan through the corridor, then turns it off before he opens the door. Once inside, he immediately steps toward the windows to close all the blinds. Only then he turns on the ceiling lights in the main room. 

Modern, is the first impression that comes to Sam's mind when he takes a good, long look at their accommodations. Dark brown veneer and cream-colored walls, leather sofas and curved glass tables, artificial orchid included. Someone designed the shit out of this suite, but it's not really his style, all those too-sharp edges and the sophisticated color scheme. He goes to check out the bedrooms and claims the left one for himself.

He pulls his boots off in relief and lets them drop on the elegantly striped carpet, then returns to the living room. Steve is unpacking Barnes' purchases while Barnes himself is nowhere to be seen. Sam raises an eyebrow at Steve. 

"Bucky says he's checking the perimeter," Steve says. Sam translates perimeter into _escape routes_ in his mind and nods. He sinks down onto a chair. "What did he get? Any beer?" 

"No," Steve says. He pulls apples, bananas, and plums out of one bag, followed by a package of brown bread, a glass of jam, butter, sausages, and ome kind of cheese. 

"Chocolate, at least?" Sam reaches for the second bag and peers inside. A toothbrush, but no toothpaste. Some kind of German candy – licorice? - twisted into spirals. Butterscotch toffees in rectangular bars. Sam opens the package and takes one. Turns out that to actually get to the goodies, he has to open the bar, then unwrap each of the six square, bite-sized blocks. After the day he's had, it's pretty tiresome.

Barnes returns. Steve looks at him quizzically and gets a hint of a nod in return. Without another word, Barnes sits down at the table between Sam and Steve. 

They eat in silence. The weirdness of the day catches up with Sam; the whole scenery starts to feel a bit like a nightmare. The empty hotel, virtually made for a remake of _The Shining_ ; Barnes' constant vigilance; Steve's uncharacteristic restlessness. Sam has no idea how to start a conversation, so he keeps quiet, which is uncharacteristic for _him._

As they are mostly done with the bread and cheese, Barnes pulls a switchblade out of his pocket. He draws the bowl of plums toward him and starts to bisect and core them in slow, deliberate movements that seem at odds with his usual quick efficiency. He's holding the plums almost reverently. 

Sam, who isn't especially fond of plums, opts for an apple instead. He's munched it down to the core when Barnes finally starts to eat his plums, looking … like he's making sweet love to them. He's not doing anything weird or obscene, like licking them or sucking on them – nothing like that. He just takes … little bites, focused on tasting them. As if he's savoring them. Sam catches himself staring and quickly looks away. He takes a banana he doesn't really want, just because he needs something to do with his hands and his eyes. 

Then there's an odd little moment when Barnes suddenly stops, plum in hand. It's so startling that Sam can't help but stare at him, _again_ , but Barnes doesn't seem to notice. He holds both halves of the last plum in his hand and looks at them. Then his eyes wander to Steve, who has just finished his last slice of bread. Wordlessly, Barnes places both halves in front of Steve. Steve looks up in surprise and Barnes shrugs, lowers his had so that strands of grimy black hair cover his eyes, and takes a piece of licorice candy. Steve keeps staring at Barnes. A soft smile spreads on his face. 

"Thanks, Buck," he says. Barnes nods in acknowledgment and eats his candy.

No one needs to tell Sam that the scene he just witnessed is loaded with meaning, but fuck if he has any idea what's going on. The day has definitely been too long when he starts thinking about weird offerings of fruit as something with a hidden message. He pushes the thought away and focuses on a list of priorities. It's fairly short. A shower. Sleep. He announces his intention to both centenarians in the room, then gets up as Steve starts eating the goddamned plum. Barnes cleans his knife on his sleeve.

~~~~~

As Sam emerges from the shower in a fluffy white bathrobe, he goes looking for Steve and Barnes to say good night. He finds the door to the second bedroom open. Barnes sits on the bed with its gray, discreetly flowered coverlet; he's taken off his shirt and moves his metal arm back and forth, cleaning it with – oh, that's what the toothbrush was for. 

The shower of the en-suite bathroom is running. Steve's clothes are piled on a chair; they look filthy even from a distance. If Sam had any energy left, he'd go looking for a washer and a dryer. Maybe he'll just wash his briefs and his t-shirt and hang them to dry in the bathroom overnight. Whatever. 

Barnes lifts his head as Sam leans against the door frame. After a second, his eyes return to the task at hand. With a scowl on his face, he twists his arm as far as possible to the side to get to the outside of the elbow joint. 

"You need help?" Sam says. 

"No." 

Well, that's not surprising.

"Thanks," Barnes adds after a second, which is. 

"All right," Sam says. "I'll go to bed."

"We need to be gone at six."

"Yeah, okay." 

Sam retreats into his bedroom, closes the door, and chooses the left side of the bed. As he slides under the covers, he wonders whether Steve intends to sleep on the couch, let Barnes sleep on the couch, or share with him. It might not be the best decision to share a bedroom with someone as volatile and unpredictable as Barnes. Well, it's not Sam's problem, or at least not until it actually becomes one. He'll deal with it then.

Sam sets the alarm for five thirty. It takes him a moment to figure out why the clock runs one hour slow – apparently, the hotel didn't switch to daylight saving time along with the rest of Germany. Time to sleep, he tells himself, and as his military training kicks in, he's out like a light.

~~~~~

It's only three a.m. when Sam wakes with a full bladder. He gropes for the switch of the bedside lamp and stumbles into the bathroom to take a piss. He's thirsty, so he tiptoes into the living room to snatch a water bottle from the table. He takes several deep gulps and screws the lid shut again. The other bedroom door is open, and after a moment of hesitation, Sam takes a couple of cautious steps to peek inside. 

Barnes and Steve form one big lump on the left side of the bed. They share a blanket. Actually, they are spooning. Barnes' metal arm is slung around Steve's waist, his wrist covered by Steve's hand. He has his face buried in Steve's hair. Two bathrobes lie discarded on the floor and they _might_ be wearing briefs, but somehow, Sams doubts it. 

Well, that's one question answered Sam didn't even think to ask. He inches away from the door and sneaks back into his own bedroom.

~~~~~

Can a morning after be a morning after when it wasn't really a night before? It sure feels like it. Sam gets up when the clock rings, takes a brief shower, and puts on his funky-smelling clothes. When he leaves his room, the door to the other bedroom is closed. He turns on the ceiling lights and takes an inventory of their provisions to find out what they have left for breakfast. _Mettwurst_ and licorice wheels. Great. Though admittedly, the _Mettwurst_ doesn't taste half bad.

The other door opens and Steve walks out. "Morning," he says with a tired, sincere smile and sits down to tie his boots. 

"Morning," Sam says. Barnes is nowhere to be seen and he thinks the shower is still running. It would be a good opportunity to ask. Sam lets it pass. Some things are private, and he isn't Steve's keeper. He wonders a little about Steve kissing Sharon eight in front of Barnes. What was up with that? He decides he doesn't really want to know.

~~~~~

The sun begins to rise when they stop at a local gas station. Sam and Barnes wait in the car as Steve refuels and walks into the building to pay. Uncomfortable silence stretches into a new dimension. Finally, Sam takes a deep breath. "You know, he never stopped looking for you. After D.C., I mean." When he gets no answer, he looks over his shoulder back to Barnes. Barnes stares out of the window, at the gas station. "Man," Sam says, acutely aware that what he's going to say might not go over well with Barnes. "He'd do pretty much anything for you. I only hope you're worth it."

At that, Barnes turns his head and looks at him. "What if I'm not?" 

"Yeah, well. He thinks you are, and I trust him, so I guess I'll take his word on it, at least for now. Just don't screw him over, and we're good."

Barnes doesn't answer. Seeing as he doesn't punch Sam's lights out, Sam assumes that he hasn't overstepped his bounds, or at least not in a way that puts him on Barnes' shitlist. 

Steve returns from the gas station with a bag full of croissants and some weird kind of coffeinated chocolate in a tin, which he tosses at Barnes. He slides into the driver's seat – squeezes into it, more like – and starts the engine. Sam isn't surprised when Steve's eyes seek out the rearview mirror, presumably to check in on Bucky, who gives him another one of his brief, shockingly sweet smiles.

Sam mentally shakes his head. _This is not going to end well._ Though he'd like to be wrong about that. He clears his throat. "Okay, guys, let's go. Leipsic is waiting." 

" _Leipzig_ ," Bucky and Steve say in unison.

"Oh, come on," Sam says. Steve hides a laugh behind a cough. As the car accelerates with an ominous rattling noise, Sam settles in for the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> When Bucky calls out to the protesters, he says "Bärgida! Pegida for Berlin! We are the people!", and then, "Johannes! Johannes! Wait!" 
> 
> The protester then later says, "Dude, let go of me," and "Piss off, man."
> 
> [Bärgida is the local Branch of Pegida, a right-wing/nationalist anti-Islamic protest movement formed in Germany as a reaction to the refugee crisis. "Wir sind das Volk!", a slogan utilized by Pegida, was initially used during peaceful demonstrations in the GDR to protest the socialist government.]


End file.
